


Those Unspoken Things

by SparkleDragons



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Discussion of attempted past self mutilation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, fluff but like hidden in the angst, post 159 pre 160, they both have so many issues ya'll there's so much trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleDragons/pseuds/SparkleDragons
Summary: There are a few things Jon and Martin haven't quite told each other. Things tend to come up at the oddest times.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 13
Kudos: 454





	Those Unspoken Things

**Author's Note:**

> Me: i'm gonna write something soft  
> Also me: Make it angsty

Soft light filters through the safe house window, highlighting the dust motes floating softly through the air. Jon left the window cracked to let the breeze in. It makes the room smell like wet grass and earth, carrying a freshness Jon hadn’t even realized he missed working in the archives. The autumn air carries a chill but it’s nothing a sweater and the old knit blanket Martin brought don’t fix. It’s perfect for reading a good book on the couch, despite how ratty and old the cushions are.

It’s only been a few days since they’d arrived and adjusting has been hard. He was still looking over his shoulder for a while, expecting at any moment for some horrible creature or another to come bursting through the doors to ruin the first truly happy moment of his life in years. Now that they’re here, though? Comfortable? He dreads ever having to go back to the nightmare he was living before. Maybe they can both go find some really good therapists. It seemed like it had been helping Melanie, from the few phone calls they’d had.

Jon hums contently as Martin comes up behind the couch and easily envelops Jon in his arms. Martin figured out a way of walking on the old floor boards that gave Jon enough heads up he was coming not to startle him. The first time he’d done this without a warning Jon had launched himself so quickly off the couch he was already shaking in the corner before Martin had a moment to process what had happened. It was a long night and an even longer conversation.

“I’m _reading_ ,” Jon grumples, leaning into Martin’s touch despite his words.

“I know,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and running his hands down the front of his chest.

The book finds its place on the table as Jon gives into Martin’s insistence. “Fine. But you’re not doing this over the back of the couch.”

Martin smiles into Jon’s hair and breaks contact just long enough to come along the side and onto the couch itself, pulling Jon up on top of him. Martin makes a very good pillow, something Jon learned just on the trip up to the safehouse. Being chronically short and scrawny has _some_ benefits he supposes. It helps that Martin has almost a full foot on him.  
  
It’s nice, just laying there, feeling Martin’s chest rise and fall, carrying him with it. Martin’s hands roam across Jon’s back and sides in soothing circles, slowly working bits of the tension out.

“You left the window open,” Martin mutters, running a hand down Jon’s spine.

“I opened it on purpose,” Jon grumbles into Martin’s chest.

“It’s freezing in here,” Martin says, hands stilling momentarily.

“It’s _nice_ ,” Jon says, lifting his head and scowling in protest to Martin stopping.

“How are you not cold?” Martin mocks, running his hands over Jon’s prominent ribs. “You’re skin and bones Jon.”

“I _like_ the chill it’s-”

The moment is somewhat broken when Jon makes a soft noise of complaint as Martin’s hand finds the space at the bottom of his chest where his ribs give way to soft flesh too soon. The space where Jared pulled the bones out is more tender than Jon had anticipated. He’s been avoiding twisting in the wrong way since they’d been taken out.

“Jon are you… Are you missing _ribs_?” Martin asks incredulously and prods the space in his side curiously.

“Yes- I. Stop _poking_ it so much,” he complains, half-heartedly batting Martin’s hands away. “Can we just. Go back to what we were doing.”

“No… No _why_ are you missing _ribs_ , Jon? When did _that_ happen?” He hasn’t shifted Jon off yet, but Jon is very sure this is going to lead to another talk about his recklessness. Deep down he thinks he might actually be looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since anyone actually cared enough to berate him for his hairbrained plans. Basira judged from time to time, but it wasn’t the same.

And maybe he was subconsciously looking for a bit more tension. All this peace was… somewhat setting him on edge for sure. He feels like he’s just waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next big monster to fight, the next danger to barely survive… or not at all.

“When I went into the buried. I... I need an anchor to come back to. I, uh. I _thought_ part of, well, _me_ would work. It. It didn’t. I think it was the tapes in the end, actually. Thanks... For those… by the way.”

“How did you- _Why_ -” Martin splutters for a moment, which does little more but jostle Jon. “ _Jon_ .”  
  
“Originally I was going to cut off a finger… But my body wasn’t _keen_ on that and kept healing before I could finish the job. Maybe if I’d had a sharper knife or-”

“A _finger_ ?” Martin cuts him off. “Jon you can’t just… just _maim yourself_.”

“Well no one was stopping me! Daisy needed help and Melanie knew where Helen was keeping Jared so I _thought_ -”

“ _I_ would have stopped you! I wouldn’t have just sat by and let you _do that_ ! Where was _I_!?”

“You were upstairs… busy.” Jon says, shrugging. He doesn’t blame Martin for what happened. It wasn’t his fault, it was Jon’s choice. Martin was both being manipulated and doing what he thought was best… even if it hurt like hell to watch and go through.

“I- right. Right. I-” Martin sighs and pushes up, carefully making sure Jon ends up sitting on the couch next to him instead of topping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“What? It’s fine Martin. You’re not responsible for things I do.”

“No. No you’re right. I wasn’t...” He sighs deeply and pulls his feet up to the edge of the couch, wrapping his arms around his knees and bringing himself in as small as he can for a man of his size. “I wasn’t there.”

“Martin-”  
  
“I think... I’m going to bed. I just.” Martin pushes himself off the couch and starts towards the bedroom. “Sorry for interrupting your reading.”

Jon watches him go, more than a little baffled. He’d been enjoying that. But… he wouldn’t press it and goes to pick up his book again. He’s long since learned his lesson of poking into other people’s spaces. If Martin wants to be alone, then he has every right to-

Jon pauses his train of thought. _Should_ he let Martin be alone when he’s clearly upset? Normally he’d say yes. Before it was because he couldn’t be bothered. Now he’s trying to learn to respect others' situations. But after everything that’s happened…

Jon debates the idea for a moment more before putting the book down on the couch and getting up to trail Martin to the room.

No one’s inside when he opens the door.

He immediately panics, goes back through his memories. Martin went through _this_ door right? Not another one? Not one that wasn’t supposed to be there? Helen _was_ acting strangely before as much as that could mean for her. But… Yes. Yes he did. Martin came in here. Jon’s absolutely sure of it.

He rushes to the window. Would something have had time to take him through the- no. No it was still locked. Unless whatever took Martin could lock it behind them. What could do that. The Stranger? No no they would be regrouping for a long time yet. Spiral? What if a door showed up in here? When Jon was trying to decide if he should follow or not.

Maybe the closet? The image of some terrible monster holding Martin quiet and terrified in the back of the closet flashes through Jon’s mind and he throws open the door before he can think it through further. But no. Still nothing.

He shouldn’t have waited around. He should have protested. This is all his fault! He wasn’t fast enough. Martin could be gone forever, could be suffering and it’s all Jon’s-

Jon straightens, suddenly stiff as he Knows. There’s a space he can’t See, subconsciously or otherwise. He turns to look at the bed where his eyes try to slip over the space of the mattress indented as if someone were resting there, someone he can’t see.

He blinks furiously for a moment, primarily frustrated by the way his eyes keep slipping over the spot he _knows_ Martin’s lying. Eventually he just huffs and closes his eyes, using a hand on the bed to guide himself over to the other side where he can climb up and lay next to Martin.

He reaches out a hand, eyes still closed, and breathes a sigh of relief when he connects with Martin’s shoulder. He Knew, but the tension in his chest was still churning until he confirmed that contact.

“Martin?”

A barely audible mumble paired with the sound light fabric movement is the only response.

“Martin it’s not your fault.”

Martin whispers something and Jon has to strain to hear it.

“I- I’m sorry I can’t-”

“I should have been there.” Martin says, still soft, but more forcefully this time. Jon feels Martin shift under his hand, curling in on himself. “Helped you come up with a better idea… _Christ_ Jon I was _upstairs_ while you were trying to cut your finger off!”

Jon opens his eyes and glares against the haze, willing them to focus the mist in front of him into the man he _knows_ is lying right there. “Martin you couldn’t have known-”

“ _Yes_ ! Yes I could have! If. If I’d only been more _open_ maybe you would have come to me before-”

“Martin _stop_. You were... It wasn’t your fault. You’re. I can’t watch you fade again.”

“I don’t... O-oh.” Suddenly Martin coalesses again, still facing away, but _solid_ , _there_.

“Sorry I didn’t-”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jon says and scoots forward to wrap his arms around Martin. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Martin mumbles something that Jon’s sure is another apology, but he doesn’t call him out on it, just holds him and makes a conscious note not to let him be alone again. At least, not when he’s so upset. Jon will just have to keep an eye out for Martin starting to slip again, just in case.


End file.
